


Breathless Love

by CGotAnAccount



Series: ADVENTure Is Out There! [27]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Keith can't disappoint him, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, THEY SAVED EACH OTHER, shiro can't cook, this is a shitpost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGotAnAccount/pseuds/CGotAnAccount
Summary: The snacks are the main reason he comes- they're nearly always the best part of his diet.Nearly.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: ADVENTure Is Out There! [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558660
Comments: 21
Kudos: 81





	Breathless Love

**Author's Note:**

> Day 27

Paladin game night had been one of the precious few concessions to normalcy in scheduling that they had won after war. Nothing trying to kill them, no paperwork to be done, and no communicators.

Even better, it occasionally turns into Paladin game night minus the Blue lion crew when they decide they need a date night – which means Keith has half the urge to jam a fork into his eyeball and twice the snacks that he doesn't need to share.

And really, besides getting to watch Shiro laugh for an evening, the snacks are the main reason he comes- they're nearly always the best part of his diet.

Nearly.

“Holy fuck,” Keith chokes, trying his best not to spit out the dip onto the nice clean floors as his throat refuses to accept the slime that is currently burning his taste buds. “Oh god, what the fuck-”

It's somehow both viscous and crunchy as it coagulates on the back of his tongue, leaving him to retch like a cat with a hairball as he attempts to wipe it out with a napkin. He manages to catch most of the chunks, but it leaves an awful slippery feeling behind – and a vague nausea fueled by the wafting scent of what must be brine and piss trapped forever in his sinuses.

“What even was that?!” he sputters, tears in his eyes as he squints at his friends assembled around the kitchen island. The conversation died somewhere around the same time as his dignity and they sit staring at him in various stages of glee and horror. “Was it even food?”

Hunk breaks first, cringing as he scoots the container of dip closer to him with his nose pinched.

“I think it's curdled...” He snags a spoon and pokes it, setting a foul smelling bubble free. His eyes water, but Keith can't tell if it's from the smell or the pain of seeing a dish like that. “Yeap... definitely curdled at the very least.”

Shiro wilts beside him.

“Is it really that bad?”

His pout is in full force as he gazes sadly upon what is apparently his contribution, eyes full of regret as he flicks an apologetic glance up to Keith. It feels like watching a dog get kicked, or someone stealing toys from a baby.

“I'm so sorry, Keith... I really thought I had it this time.”

Keith wants to throw himself head first into the oven.

“No!” he shouts, lurching across the table to slap his hand over Shiro's before he can consider a reality in which he's not perfect. “I- I mean... it just surprised me.”

In a move he will later chalk up to unadulterated love, Keith snatches another chip out of the basket and scoops it through the dip, jamming it into his mouth with defiance. The urge to heave is instant, but Keith's fought tougher battles in his life for less important causes.

“Ooh buddy, no...” Hunk winces, watching as Keith's skin tinges green and his throat gives an involuntary shudder. “That's not advisable.”

Keith doesn't care. He chews like he can gnash the taste into nothingness from sheer force of will – like he can chew Shiro's downtrodden expression back into sunshine... like it's turning into paste in his mouth more and more as it gets churned up.

“Euuh?”

He doesn't mean for the noise to slip out – an involuntary questioning of what's now becoming sticky enough to make chewing difficult.

“Keith...” Shiro flips his hand palm up and tangles their fingers, brows furrowed as his eyes rake over Keith's pained expression. “Please, baby, you don't have to do this.”

But he does, oh how he does.

Except the lump is now increasingly difficult to swallow, gumming up between his molars and the back of his throat, like some sort of sentient slime bent on suffocating him for his hubris. He can only imagine the aftermath of his imminent demise, how hard Shiro will take it when Keith is felled – not by intergalactic warfare, but by the cooking of his own boyfriend.

It's a loss he'd never get over – far worse than the bruised ego of one bad dish.

He's got to spit it out, or swallow it down, or _something_ that stops it from slowly creeping down to block his airway.

The panic must read on his face because even Pidge is looking concerned now, eyes pulled away from her tablet to see what the commotion is about. Hunk slides off his stool and comes around to hover at Keith's shoulder, hand poised to slap at his back if needed.

“Come on buddy, that's not food... just spit it out.”

Keith pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head. It's not that he doesn't want to – _he can't_. His hand spasms where Shiro holds it, shaking as he brings the other up to tap on his collarbone.

“Aw, baby, I love you too.” Shiro holds his hand tighter, but his voiced is laced with concern. “It's okay, Hunk's right, you don't have to finish it.”

The sappy idiot is going to be the death of him. Literally.

He shakes his head again, frantically this time, slapping his chest higher on his neck with fingers tapping his throat. The ooze is searing his taste buds off, filling his sinus cavity with a miasma that replaces all clean air. Its viscosity rivals that of Pidge's shock-absorbent gel but twice as sticky as it schlorps to cover the back of his throat. He can feel the moment it sticks it shut completely.

“Keith?”

Shiro's eyes are bugged now, thoroughly alarmed as he moves to stand beside Hunk. He rests a hand on Keith's back, soothing under any other circumstances, but he _can't fucking breathe._

“Baby, are you okay?”

Had he the capability to do anything but clutch at his throat and try not to die, Keith may have rolled his eyes at the question. As it is, he can only untangle their fingers and slap his palm on the table.

“He's choking,” Pidge drawls, one eyebrow raised as she squints at the greenish-grey cast to his face. “I'd start giving him the heimlich if you still want to have a boyfriend tomorrow.”

“Oh my god.” Hunk flaps his hands, dancing from foot to foot as he looks between Keith and Shiro. “Should you do it? Should I do it? Should we takes turns? What if we break him? He's so small, oh god... look at his little ribs.”

Shiro returns his horrified look and winds up to smack Keith on the back, then flinches at the idea of hurting him.

“You're right - what if we break his ribs? They're so delicate...”

Keith slaps the table again. He'll take broken ribs over _slowly suffocating to death on the world's worst sludge_ any day of the week – and if someone doesn't do something soon he's going to throw himself on a chair and hope for the best.

“Better break em quick,” Pidge chimes, utterly unhelpful as Shiro and Hunk both fret. “He's getting pretty grey.”

“Baby!” Shiro cries, lurching forward to wrap his arms tight around Keith's midsection and heave. “Don't leave me!”

Keith can feel his eyes bug out as those arms crush the life out of him in a burst of strength, dislodging most of the slime in a whoosh of air. The next hit knocks it somewhere around his teeth, and the last has him coughing up the ball of oozing death onto the table.

He sucks in a wheezing breath, slumping back into Shiro's arms as he hacks up thick grey-tinged phlegm.

“Shiro,” he rasps, eyes wide as he tips his head back and shakes in his arms. “You saved me.”

Pidge squints at them, then at the ball of guts and murder-dip sitting on the table. Hunk meets her deadpan stare with a thousand-yard look of horror of his own.

“No baby, I don't know what I'd do without you...” Shiro murmurs, pressing a kiss against Keith's clammy forehead. “We saved each other.”


End file.
